Power Stone a novelisation
by Xyrer
Summary: Finally, an update! Chapter 4 (or 3 if you don't count the prologue) is here! New characters are introduced, Accel and Galuda continue their journey, and Falcon gets captured! Please, please, please R+R!!!
1. Prologue

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This is my attempt to do a story loosely based upon the plot of Power Stone 2. The chapters will be a little short, but there should be lots of them if all goes according to plan.

But first, a little background for my version of the Power Stone story and that game's version of Earth for you.

First of all, in this story power stones are rare, but there are more than seven. They are essentially another recently discovered element on the planet.

Second, this story, while loosely sticking to this Earth's history in the 19th century e.g. the height of the European colonisation of North America, will also have its own historical events that will explain aspects of, and hopefully add some depth to, the story.

Thirdly, magic exists (as it may or may not do on our own Earth) in the Power Stone Earth and is being currently quickly overtaken by technology. Evidence of magic in the world of Power Stone exists in the numerous magically infused weapons in the game and within this story.

Lastly, at this time period in the story, mankind has developed some forms of high technology (aircraft, submarines, more advance firearms etc.) but not others (computers, subways, space travel and more)

I think that's about it, If you have any questions e-mail me at jimtron3000@hotmail.com_ and I'll endeavour to answer them. Aside from that, read on and enjoy!_

It was the 19th century and every nation on Earth was in turmoil. This was the century of technology. So many advances had been made in so few years and it was truly amazing. Man could now fly, travel under the sea. Technology had seemingly made the archaic force of magic obsolete. It was truly an awe-inspiring time, when heroes were heroes and the game of politics did not hold more sway in government than ethics and kept promises did.

But on the descent from the peak of a few years of technological innovation the world had been swept up into another hurricane of discovery and romantic adventure for a genius, Doctor Erode by name, had made a discovery that may well have rocketed mankind into the future more quickly than could be expected, or indeed sooner than nature intended.

Dr. Erode's discovery was a new element, named Erodium after who had discovered it but more commonly referred to as power stones.

Power stones were gems of every hue of the rainbow. And numerous experiments by Dr. Erode and his team of scientists revealed it to be the most versatile of the elements so far discovered. The stones generated energy that could power most machines. Their natural beauty meant that when cut in the same manner as diamonds, they made the most dazzling jewellery and ornaments imaginable. Due to their rarity, they were considered more valuable than gold and were mined for by prospectors on virtually every square inch of land that was believed suitable for the power stones to be found in.

However these properties were not the strangest of their properties.

The power stones held the mysterious property to 'fuse' their molecules with those of the people who held them while concentrating the mind on them. This fusion had the effect that if a fusion were successful, the person's physical power would be exponentially increased. However, this power was not without limits. Once a person fused with three stones, the body would be unable to contain the power generated by the essence of the stones and would undergo a forced temporary evolution in order to better manage the energy. These 'power fusion forms' had incredible abilities, including but not limited to energy manipulation. Eventually the body would expel the stones in order to retain its normal form and the extra power would fade away.

By observing these power fusion forms, Dr. Erode formed a theory that the form and abilities gained by a person were not just defined by the body, but also by the mind, and even the soul. He alerted the global powers-that-be to this fusion property and accordingly strict regulations forbidding the use of power stones for fusion purposes, under penalty of imprisonment, or even in some countries, death.

Eventually, Dr. Erode retired with his fortune to a private castle, and went from being known as the world's most famous scientist and innovator, to the world's most famous recluse and hermit.

And so, the rush for the stones began. And at the forefront was a motley collection of "stone seekers" whose own varied talents they hoped would secure power stones to further their own individual goals. This is their Story.


	2. The Wild, Wild, Wild West

A dark shadow flitted behind the towering cacti of a desert as hot as it was big. In cover, a pair of bright blue eyes watched two men to whom the term 'desperadoes' could not have fit better. A general aura of depravity and general lack of hygiene hung about them, as they talked excitedly about something. The watcher could see the subject of their excitement briefly as it was passed from one to the other. It was sky blue, and glowed with an inner light. He paused, waited for his moment. The right moment. There! In one fluid movement, his hand pushed a ragged cape away, drew a pistol from one of the holster at his hip, aimed and fired.

The bullet ricocheted off the power stone, causing both of the men to leap in shock, ignoring the stone as it bounced away across the cracked red earth. Instead they whirled around and drew their own guns, and cracked off a half dozen rounds each in the direction where they thought the shot had come from. Neither, apparently, was right, as the watcher stepped out from his place of hiding, twin six-shooters trained and cocked, each pointed at its own target.

"Holy shit, Zeke! It's that guy… Accel!"

The crimson-masked gunfighter smirked, and then spoke. "Right. When I say, you two are gonna drop those guns, stick your mitts in your pockets and walk real slow and peacefully away from that stone and out of sight."

The desperado known as Zeke growled and took a short half-step forward, his gun still ready.

"Ah-ah." Accel's voice never rose from a cool monotone.

"This guy ain't so tough." Zeke sneered, raised his gun higher and pulled the trigger. Instead of a dramatic bang, there was an anticlimactic click. The gun was empty.

Accel moved at incredible speed. The back of the pistol crashed down upon Zeke's head, dropping him in a split-second. Zeke's companion soon followed after a heel from a roundhouse kick hit him in the back of the skull.

"Oh well. They wanted to put up a fight, I guess." He smirked and fingered the long scar that ran from his left eye to his jaw out of habit. He walked over and went to pick up the stone when a large shadow fell over him, in the way that large shadows do. Accel looked up, the owner of the shadow looked down. It was a large Native American, tanned of skin and muscular and broad of frame. He was bare-chested, wearing orange and green trousers. A headband held a single white and brown eagle feather in place.

When he spoke, it was in a deep, low voice that boomed even when he was speaking softly. "I need that stone."

Accel straightened up and raised an eyebrow under his mask. "Maybe so, redskin. But I have heap big need for this here rock too, and I was here first, savvy?"

"I don't want to confront you. But if I must to obtain that power stone, I will do." The man's hands were by his sides and open, but still Accel couldn't help but feel that this guy could move quickly from that position if he wanted.

"Hold up, hombre. You tryin' to start a fight?"

"If you insist. But I will have the power stone, whatever the cost."

Accel folded his arms. "What's your name?"

"Galuda." Came the reply from the Indian.

"Well, Galuda. Neither of us, it seems, are gonna back off. So, what say we have ourselves a friendly fight right here, winner take all. And to be fair, I won't use my guns."

"Yes. I could use a workout." A smile crossed the massive Indian's thin-lipped mouth.

They stepped apart a respectful distance. For now, the power stone rested on a nearby rock. Galuda fell into a fighting position, his arms in front of him, his palms facing forwards, knees slightly bent. Accel adopted a stance that had won him many fistfights in the past, weight on his toes, fists balled and held in such a position as to guard his face and body.

"Ready?" Accel smirked.

Galuda nodded.

"Go!" Accel rushed toward the Indian and jumped into a flying kick. Galuda, with surprising speed for such a large man, dodged off to the side and delivered a backhand that, due to Accel's honed reflexes, missed by an inch and only succeeded in knocking the smaller man's hat off.

Accel's response was to throw a hard right thrust that crashed into his opponent's chest. Galuda staggered for a moment and countered with a two handed palm strike when the gunfighter's back was turned. The sheer power in the Native American's arms caused the smaller man to fall over. A quick roll and Accel was back on his feet, clutching his side, trying to get his wind back. He growled and his other hand went to his holster._ No._ He thought. _I said I wouldn't use my guns, and I won't._

Accel charged.

The fight continued in the same fashion. One man would throw a blow, and the other would dodge or block. If one made contact, the other would respond in kind.

Nearly a half-hour later, the two men were a short distance away from each other.

"You… fight well… for a white man." Galuda's hands rested on his knees. He was puffing and panting.

"You're no slouch yourself." Accel was down on one knee, out of breath.

"Call it a tie?" Galuda pulled himself up.

"Gladly. But there's the matter of the stone. Why do you want it so bad, anyway?" Accel asked as he rose to his feet.

"That's my business."

"C'mon. There's no-one around to hear."

Galuda paused. His eyes were lowered and serious. "It is a test. To win the daughter of my tribe's chief's hand, I must obtain a stone. However, within this area of the plains, power stones are even rarer. It was a stroke of luck, that I would come across you with a stone. If I am to marry Copala, then first I must return this stone to him. What reason have you for seeking the stones?"

"Umm…" Accel pulled off his hat and scratched his head. "I was gonna sell it."

Galuda raised an eyebrow, and then laughed and slapped the smaller man on the back. "I will do you a deal. Come back with me to the village, as a witness that I did nothing underhanded to gain the stone. If I win Copala's hand, I will give you the stone to sell."

Accel grinned. "You got it, pardner."


	3. Falcon's Mission

A singular streak of red whipped through a cloudbank and dove into a glorious barrel roll. A crimson biplane swooped low over the ground and its pilot came into view. Clad in red, like his plane, which had, in white letters upon its side, the name "Hockenheim". The pilot was blond of hair and blue of eye, square of jaw and dashing of smile.

His name was Falcon, and he was heading home.

The Hockenheim looped past Big Ben and toward the airstrip outside of the Ministry of Defence's main building. Falcon left his trusty plane in the care of one of the docking crewmen and, with a brief flash of his top-level access card to the security men, walked through the main entrance and into the elevator.

Falcon left the elevator, and feeling the deep carpet under his soft-landing boots, entered the boardroom.

A long ovoid table sat in the centre of the room, lit by three overhead lamps. The long wide windows were shuttered, and only a few slivers of misty England sunlight shone through. Sat around the table were various figures, some in suits, others in military uniform. At the head of the table was a man in pilot's gear, with a large white moustache. His eyes were the same as Falcon's, for he was his father, Pride.

Falcon snapped into a smart salute. "Flying officer Falcon Highguard reporting for duty, Sir!"

"Thank you, Flying Officer. Take a seat." Pride's mouth was serious but his eyes twinkled with good humour.

Falcon took a seat.

One of the suited men stood and cleared his throat. "Now, that we are all assembled, I will explain the situation. The subject, people, is as always, power stones. As you all know, it was officially announced two months ago by the national mining council that Great Britain has no power stones left. It seems to be the same everywhere. Power Stones seem to be diminishing in number everywhere, and miners can't account for the fast rate of their disappearance. However as of late, we are trying to establish favourable trade relations with Japan and China, who it seems have plenty left. They have agreed to meet with a representative from our fair country." The suit turned to look Falcon in the eye. "It has thus far been unanimously decided that you, Flying Officer, should be the one to extend the hand of co-operation."

Falcon's eyes widened in mild surprise. "But I'm not the most suited for this mission, sir. I don't speak Chinese, or Japanese for that matter."

"There will be translators."

"And plus, I just got back from Russia the other week. Don't I have some leave due?"

"I understand this, but this _is _an important mission, Mr. Highguard."

Falcon was getting a little irritated. He dedicated his life to serving his country, but he treasured his leave. It was the only time he was able to visit her…

"I _am_ a freelance agent you know."

There was silence and then. "I know. I'll give you some time to consider it. If I may call this meeting to adjournment, sir?"

Pride nodded.

As the men filed out of the boardroom, both Pride and Falcon stood fast.

Pride got up, and came over to sit closer to his son.

"Father, why did you nominate me? You know I'm only able to visit mum when I'm on leave. Why not send a proper diplomat? I'm a fighter."

Pride nodded. He knew that there was no hiding things from his son. "I can't help but feel suspicious of the East at the moment, I can't help but wonder why all our supplies are missing, and yet theirs remain plenty. I think it'd be best if we sent someone who knows what to do if things turn ugly. They deny any foul play, but still it seems too much of a coincidence. But also, there's more. I have been informed that there is a Hyper Stone somewhere in the mountains of China."

"A Hyper Stone? What's one of them?" Falcon was puzzled.

"It's a highly concentrated form of power stone. Incredibly rare. It radiates three times the energy of a regular power stone, and it is rumoured that it contains miraculous curative abilities."

Falcon's eyes widened once again. "Curative abilities? Does that mean…"

Pride's face broke into a wide grin, making his moustache point up. "Yes. If you can obtain it, then there is a chance that you could save your mother's life, Falcon."

Falcon leapt to his feet, knocking his chair back. "Well, what are we waiting for! Let's go!"

Pride looked saddened. "Unfortunately son, I can't go with you. Since my promotion to Group Captain, my responsibilities tie me down to the ground. But I'll tell your mother about your mission."

"No." Said Falcon. "I don't want to get her hopes up. I don't want to keep her in false suspense."

Pride laughed and slapped him on the back. "I'm proud of you, son."

After the relevant procedures were performed, the Hockenheim taxied down the runway and soon, Falcon was high above the clouds once again. Soon, the high mountains of China came into view. Soon, he would be in Peking, and soon he would be searching for that stone, after he had dealt with that trading business. These days he was becoming more and more of a figurehead for politics. This was not why he enrolled in the Air Force! He'd joined to fly planes over enemy borders! To fight with enemy planes like his father! But, there wasn't any actual fighting at the moment, but with the current tension in Russia, that could be set to change.

Falcon was shaken from his thoughts as gunfire from the forest below him peppered the side of his plane. "What!?" The pilot shouted in surprise as he struggled to keep the plane in the air. _The Chinese are protective of their barriers, but they're not known for shooting people down without warning. Especially representatives from another countries! _The pilot thought frantically as he struggled with the joystick. _Oh, hell! Here we go!_

The Hockenheim crashed through tree and bush, coming to rest a mere foot away from a very puzzled and surprised small deer.

Brushing away leaves and twigs, Falcon clambered out of the cockpit, tripped and did a nice forward roll onto the ground. He sat up, rubbing his head and opened his eyes and found the tip of what was obviously a very sharp sword tickling the tip of his nose.


	4. The Pilot, the Samurai and the Fighter

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Author's note: To make this chapter easier to understand, Chinese speech will be in and English in the regular quote marks. Ta for listening, and keep reading!

The young man bounced quickly upon the balls of his feet, his braided jet-black ponytail bouncing in rhythm as he moved with light steps around a thick old tree, whose cherry blossoms were swaying in the cooling breeze. The young man, Wang Tang by name, sprang into action and delivered a shatteringly powerful palm strike, which flowed lightly into a medium height kick, which in turn became a roundhouse kick. Wang Tang slipped back away from the tree, which now displayed cracked bark where the youth's blows had landed. 

A cloud of loosened blossoms floated gently around him. A shuddering crash rang through the forest suddenly, surprising him.

What happened there? He said aloud. I hope he's okay. He left in that direction a while ago. Maybe I should go check it out. No. I said I'd guard the campsite while he went to fetch breakfast.

He'd been travelling with the older man for a while now. They'd met each other in a tavern in one of the numerous little villages around this area, got to talking and realised that they had similar goals. They both wanted to become stronger. 

The older man had recently obtained a life ambition, a sword. A 'legendary' sword called Tosa Arashi. He had told him that this sword could cleave light in half and detect evil wherever it was, whatever it presented itself as. It could do these things only if the person who wielded was strong enough. It seemed his companion was not at this point at the level that the sword deemed strong enough.

So, it came down to that they were both seeking the same thing. The Hyper Stone. It was apparently somewhere in Shun Fou Mountain, the foot of which they were camped at currently. They'd both heard the stories, that it could boost the strength of any man much more than any regular Power Stone could.

Wang Tang's sensei had been getting old, and though he'd never admit it, ill. Nevertheless he still insisted on training Wang Tang, although with his age he was finding it hard going training such an energetic boy. 

However, he had promised when the boy, an orphan of five at the time, that he would train him until he became strong enough to find whoever had killed his mother and father. And since he had resigned himself to the fate that he would die before the boy had learnt what he could teach him, he would at least try and help the boy along as best he could, by telling him to seek the Hyper Stone and boost his power. This quest would be his final lesson and gift to his pupil.

Wang Tang's hurriedly shook the misty eyes of nostalgia away from his eye and jumped to his feet, assuming the mantis stance as he heard a faint rustling within the trees. 

A man stumbled through and collapsed at his feet, clad in red, a white scarf around his neck, and a shock of blonde hair. His hands were tied behind his back and he was gagged. 

A second later, Wang Tang's companion stepped lightly into the small clearing where the two travellers were camped. He was clad in ragged dark blue samurai robes, and had his hair pulled into a scruffy topknot. His skin was sun-darkened, and rough stubble attacked his chin. At his hip was slung a sheathed katana.

Wang Tang relaxed instantly. Ryoma! He grinned. Been hunting?

Ryoma scratched his chin. His plane made that crashing sound you probably heard earlier.

Why truss him up then? He probably got his brains shook out of his ears by the crash, I bet he wouldn't have a clue what to do if we even released him. Wang Tang regarded the stranger quizzically. A westerner.

Well spotted. Ryoma said sarcastically. He pointed at the patch on the blonde man's flight suit. He's from England, look.

Ryoma reached down and pulled down the pilot's gag.

Why'd you crash? A blank look was the reply. 

Ah right. Ahem. Ryoma then began to speak English, thickly accented though it was. "Why'd you crash?" The bilingual samurai asked again.

Comprehension dawned upon the pilot's face, followed quickly by annoyance. "I didn't do it on purpose. I was shot down. Would you mind untying me? I _am_ unarmed."

"Why?" Ryoma straightened up. "We don't want you to escape, now do we?"

Wang Tang clapped a hand to his face. Why not, for God's sake. We're not slave traders are we? Let him go. If he tries anything to hurt us, you can smack him down with Tosa Arashi, right?

Ryoma considered this, and then knelt again and cut Falcon's bonds.

Falcon stood, rubbing his wrists.

"Now, Any idea who'd shoot you down like that?"

"No, but when I find out, I'm going to tear them a new arsehole."

Wang Tang leant over and whispered into Ryoma's ear in Cantonese. Hey, Ryoma. What does 'arsehole' mean?

Not a clue. Probably an English slang word.

"Look, chaps. If we're going to have a conversation, let's keep it in a language we can all understand, eh?"

The samurai and fighter looked at each other and shrugged.

"Sorry." Ryoma smiled at Falcon. "But you'll have to excuse my friend. He understands English well enough but can't speak it at all because he's awkward, basically"

"That's fine. Whereabouts is the nearest village?" Falcon started to look around, surveying his surroundings.

"There's not a village for miles around here." Ryoma replied.

"Well then, point me in the direction of the nearest one then."

"Stranger could get lost real easy round here, you know. It'd be far better if you came with us. We're on a little quest right now. What if you came with us, then after we find what we're after, we take you to the nearest village then?"

Ryoma, what are you doing? Wang Tang was agitated. What if this white guy tries to get the Hyper Stone for himself?

Then I'll smack him down with Tosa Arashi, remember? was the reply. Then the samurai turned to the downed pilot and once again in English asked: "What do you say, then?"

"I really need to get to Peking." Falcon was becoming unsettled. How could he mess up like this? It never happened like this before. He'd never failed a mission before! And now he was forced to rely on two complete strangers who no less than five minutes ago looked set to slit him from gullet to gizzard! On the other hand, better the devil you know, than the devil you don't. It was looking to be a better prospect to tag along with these two guys than to wander blindly through bandit infested jungles.

"Okay, I'll come along. But I definitely need to get going to Peking afterwards."

Ryoma sheathed Tosa Arashi and grinned. "Excellent. We set off tomorrow at first light."

Meanwhile in India…

A pair of shapely hands with skin the colour of burnt caramel swept in circular patterns over a polished ball of crystal filled with smoke in the incense laden atmosphere of a red silken tent. Deep, chocolate brown eyes narrowed in concentration, trying to discern the rhythm of time, to gain a glimpse of the future. Dressed in exotically alluring clothes of gauze and gold, her long luxurious hair tied up in a waving ponytail. Her name was Rouge.

Despite her youth (she was only 22), Rouge was a formidable fortune teller. This was unusual because most fortune tellers didn't reach that level of skill until they were old and frail. She was selling her services currently to a rajah by the name of Harun Al-Muktar, who was at present trying to divine the future success of his business deals. No amateur businesswoman herself, Rouge was taking advantage of her position and drawing things out as long as possible to drain as much money as possible. Not that she was being greedy or anything, it was just that good incense didn't come cheap.

There was a rustle and a breeze as the tent door was drawn aside. "Back so soon, Excellency?" Rouge said, not looking up. There was no answer. Tearing her gaze off the crystal ball, she focused on her visitor. She took in the massive body with gargantuan muscles rippling under an orange poncho slightly too small for the person, the large round head with it's pencil thin moustache and pointed beard topped by a blue bandanna, and the dirty, green cargo trousers tucked into a pair of sturdy leather combat boots of a size that could only be described as ridiculous. Lastly, she took in the long, strange staff in the intruder's hand, carved of wood with what looked like a model of a panda in a coolie hat stuck on the end. "What on earth…" was the last thing she said before a flash of light jumped from the staff and everything went black.

Accel was awakened by the burly elbow of Galuda as the train's brakes hissed while it pulled into the remote outpost station. They had been forced to sneak onto a cargo carriage because of lack of funds. Accel made a sound like "wstfgl" as he roused himself and pulled his hat up to look at his Native American companion. "What?"

"We're here." Was the reply from Galuda, his pipe clenched between his teeth.

"I don't see nothin'."

"It's about six miles walk from here to my tribe's campground."

"You're kidding. Right?"

"No." Galuda swung the sack containing his supplies and the power stone over his shoulder. "I thought that you cowboys were supposed to be able to tough out distances of that length like it was walking across the street." He started to move off.

Accel spat, grumbled, hoisted his own knapsack and trudged after his giant friend.

Accel had halted and refused to walk past a perfectly good horse corral until they got themselves some form of transport because in his own words; "A tough and trailworn gunslinger I may be, but any idiot can blister his feet beyond recognition by refusing a perfectly good horse. It takes real intelligence to trek six miles in relative comfort", and so the two were now idly trotting through the prairies. On occasion, eager to get back to his people as soon as possible, Galuda would speed up to a gallop before Accel caught up with him and reminded him that there was no point exhausting the horse and having it die halfway through the journey.

Ryoma's sword cut a swathe through the jungle plants as he moved through the wood. Wang Tang followed close behind, a tattered map clutched in his hands. Stumbling along at the rear, Falcon struggled to manipulate the packed tent and hammocks into a comfortable position on his back.

"Why do I get landed with carrying the equipment?"

"Cause Wang Tang and myself are holding all the cards." Replied Ryoma, without looking back. "If you want to get to Peking, then we've got to show you, or you'll get lost. Which means you gotta help us first. If you don't pull your weight and help us out with little things like carrying our equipment, then you're dead weight, and we leave you behind, get it?"

Falcon fell to grumbling bad-temperedly, and the samurai turned to the martial artist. How much further?

Wang Tang squinted at the map. The map says to bear Northeast past the ruined hut, which we just passed until we get to the Foo dog statue in a clearing. Then we go north and we should find the cave where the locals at the last village said the Hyper Stone rests.

Ah. Well there's the Foo dog. Ryoma gestured with his sword to a statue of a stylised sitting dog, with his right forepaw raised. So I guess we just keep going north for how long? 

No clue. Just gotta keep going, I guess. 

Damn. 

Meanwhile, half a world away…

Whitepearl Manor sat dead centre of a lush expanse of gardens and paths with groves of trees. Off to the west was a large lake framed with willow trees, swaying gently in the cool England breeze. Moored on a small jetty were some simple rowboats painted red and white, the colours of the Whitepearl Family. It was along this lakeshore that a figure walked.

She was dressed in a long white gown trimmed with red. Her chin length, a white and red bonnet crowned her curly blonde hair. A parasol was hanging from her arm, and her hands were clasped together in front of her in a demure fashion. The vision of bright blue eyes as reflective and glimmering as the lake surface itself was cast downwards. Julia Whitepearl chewed on her perfect cupid's-bow lips, lost in pensive thought:

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The dreams are getting stronger… It's like there's something inside me, buried under the surface, clawing to get free, but I don't know what it is. If I were to tell someone, they might think me insane. I wouldn't even know what to tell them anyway. All I know is that I'm feeling such an urge to go into father's study. But I can't. That's Father's unshakeable rule, that I may never enter his study by myself. But I know there's nothing in there special. Except… Yes, of course! The heirloom! But father keeps it under lock and key! I don't think even mother has seen it. I don't know, but it feels that if I don't see this "forbidden fruit", as it is, that I might well go out of my mind altogether! That settles it. I must do this.

Somewhere in Julia's subconscious, something long buried began to stir…


End file.
